Originally Written: August 2, 2013
I slept through the night last night, but I had a few dreams. I first dreamed that I woke in a Texas hospital without a clue about why I was there. I was struggling to wake from a prolonged and drug-laced sleep. A nurse told me to relax, that I was in Texas, and they were going to take good care of me. She said that I’d had a heart attack in Virginia, and they flew me to Texas because they were the only ones who could fix me up. Not to worry.
Then I dreamed I was cleaning out a house. I was throwing every single thing out of that house – not to save it but to get rid of it. I left it clean as a whistle. I don’t even know if it was my house, but it was imperative that I leave nothing behind. Nothing.
Then I was skateboarding. My son had a skateboard when he was a kid. I’ve always secretly regretted preceding the generation that could glide with such grace and skill. Oh, to have had one of those boards when I was a kid.
So, I was skateboarding in a beautiful park. It was a sweet spring day. I felt both peace and freedom in my stomach as I floated along a tree-lined path. This must have been what my son felt when he slapped that board down, stepped on it and sailed away. I could see H waiting for me up ahead. There was an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench, relaxing in the shade. I was almost to H when the son of a bitch stuck his foot out and sent me flying through the air. He intentionally tripped me!